


The Lemon Song

by pokey_jr



Series: Only Sequences Change [12]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Squirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 16:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16099307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokey_jr/pseuds/pokey_jr
Summary: His eyes are fixed on you, every one of his sensors tuned to your reactions, and though there isn’t a dominant instinct in the titanium and plastic composite that comprise his body—or any instinct—he owns you.**Connor gets one hell of a firmware update.





	The Lemon Song

“Connor, what the hell? What’s with yo—u…” Your breath catches, because he chooses his moment with precision, processing what exactly he needs to do next to make you moan.

He likes hearing you, he’s told you so. Curls his two fingers inside of you, and covers your clit with his mouth. You can see the wetness of your arousal on his face, glistening. His eyes are fixed on you, every one of his sensors tuned to your reactions, and though there isn’t a dominant instinct in the titanium and plastic composite that comprise his body—or any instinct—he owns you.

“Firmware update,” he answers, depriving you of his mouth.

You arch your hips to him impatiently, tangle your fingers in his perfect, dark hair. “Ffffuck, Connor, please.” 

Connor isn’t one to tease, normally. At least not on purpose. But he adjusts his free arm to lie across your hips like an iron bar, pinning you in place, and laps again at your clit slow and calculated.

You strain against him, irritation giving way to desperate need. He allows you nothing. In between rhythmic swirling of his tongue, and stroking in you with his fingers, he kisses your thighs.

“Please, Detective. I’d appreciate your patience.”

You mewl. A flick of his tongue sends white hot pleasure knifing through you.

“I’m curious about something.” Lick. “From a few weeks ago.”

Lust fogs your mind, and still, you dimly recall the revelation he had bestowed upon you. Riding his face and fingers then, too, and he’d been relentless, perfect and precise in wringing pleasure from your body and then you’d squirted. All over him.

Embarrassing for you, but Connor was, of course, unfazed. Intense and inquisitive, with a barrage of questions which you weren’t ready to answer. He’d sampled the fluid, touching the tips of his fingers to his tongue, as if he hadn’t been face-first in your pussy moments before, and had repeated the term ‘squirting’ several times, delighted to learn something new.

No qualms about getting messy. In everything else he is fastidious, but now— “can you do it again? There are aspects I don’t understand yet.”

You whine, trembling at the edge. “No, goddamnit, Connor, it’s not—“ you break off as he sucks on your clit “—not on command, I—“

Your climax bears down on you, immense and unyielding and fuck you’re going to do it again and the fact that Connor is watching, the fact that he drew this from you, the warmth in his eyes as he watches you in the moment before you throw your head back.

He replaces his mouth with his thumb, unrelenting pressure on the sensitive flesh, you twist your fingers harder into hair. He doesn’t mind. 

Release slams into you, coursing through you, and you surrender to it. Distantly, you hear yourself sob his name. Every synapse firing, everything oversensitized, and you plead to him for more. Spasm around his fingers, feel the sudden new wetness, juice running down your legs making everything slick, and the unmatched intensity of this kind of pleasure that renders you incoherent. 

Gradually you drift back down, catch your breath, loosen your grip on his hair. 

Connor is back to his usual, concentrated expression. His LED spins as he analyzes samples, which you find odd and hilarious given that he was just fingering you. 

He sits back on his heels, unconcerned that he’s still shiny and dripping. 

“Detective, I believe I’ve figured out the trick.”

You raise your head. “Trick to what?”

He tilts his head, eyes wide, and replies, “squirting” with entirely too much innocence. “If you would permit me, I have some techniques I’d like to try.”


End file.
